“That will take but three words,” said Elizabeth Eliza, with presence of mind, “and we need ten. I was just trying to make them out.”
“What has come now?” exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, and they hurried again to the window, to see a row of carriages coming down the street.
“I must have touched the carriage-knob,” cried Mrs. Peterkin, “and I pushed it half-a-dozen times I felt so anxious!”
Six hacks stood before the door. All the village boys were assembling. Even their own little boys had returned from school, and were showing the firemen the way to the well.
Again Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs, and a fearful sound arose. She had touched the burglar-alarm!
The former owner of the house, who had a great fear of burglars, had invented a machine of his own, which he had connected with a knob. A wire attached to the knob moved a spring that could put in motion a number of watchmen’s rattles, hidden under the eaves of the piazza.
All these were now set a-going, and their terrible din roused those of the neighborhood who had not before assembled around the house. At this moment Elizabeth Eliza met the chief engineer.
“You need not send for more help,” he said; “we have all the engines in town here, and have stirred up all the towns in the neighborhood; there’s no use in springing any more alarms. I can’t find the fire yet, but we have water pouring all over the house.”
Elizabeth Eliza waved her telegram in the air.
“We are only trying to send a telegram to my father and brother, who are in town,” she endeavored to explain.